


Some Family Matters

by der_tanzer



Series: Protective Custody [18]
Category: Riptide (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-19
Updated: 2010-05-19
Packaged: 2017-10-09 14:11:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/der_tanzer/pseuds/der_tanzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Murray meets Quinlan's brother.  Even by their standards, it does not go well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Family Matters

**Author's Note:**

> Little touch of medical squick. Also minor violence and strong hate language.  
> 

"You okay, Lieutenant? You don't look too good."

Quinlan's head snapped up and he put on a scowl. The truth was he felt like shit, but he didn't like this pissant little patrol officer noticing.

"I'm fine," he growled. "Don't you have someplace to be?"

"Yeah, I just wanted to give you my report on that burglary ring we busted. Sarge said you were handling it personally."

"Put it on the desk and get lost." Quinlan's skin was all hot and cold, a clammy sweat breaking out on his forehead, and he didn't want the officer seeing his impending mad rush for the bathroom. The patrolman shrugged, dropped the report on the desk and left before the lieutenant could find a reason to go off on him.

For the last few months, Quinlan had been smiling more and yelling less, and bets were going around the station as to just what had brought about this miraculous change. Smart money was on Murray, but there were also contingents in favor of a looming promotion, retirement, or the completion of a torture chamber in his basement. But just as quickly as the change came, it now seemed to be going away. He was turning mean; he looked tired and pale, and though lunch was often delivered to the office, he was rarely seen to eat. He seemed to go home early most days, though he always responded to afterhours emergencies. But during the last one that Patrolman Dryer witnessed, a bloody two car wreck on the highway, the lieutenant spent most of it uncharacteristically throwing up in a ditch. There were some bets going on about that, too, but the stakes were very low. The peculiar yellow tint of his skin had the odds so solidly set on sudden onset alcoholism that there was no money in betting for it, and no point in betting against.

But the truth was, Quinlan didn't know what was wrong. The first time he got sick, he thought it was Murray's homemade spaghetti sauce and said some things that seriously hurt the kid's feelings. But when it kept happening, regardless of where he got the food or who prepared it, he'd had to apologize. He was also getting to the point where he would soon have to cave and see a doctor, if for no other reason than to get Murray to shut up about it. But he wasn't quite there yet. Not so long as he could get by with going hungry, and occasionally puking his guts.

As soon as Dryer was gone, he ran to the head and did just that.

***

"I don't think you want steak," Murray said quietly, seeing where Ted's eyes had fallen on the menu.

"I'm hungry."

"Yeah, but you always seem to feel worse after a big greasy meal like that. I—I just don't want to see you sick."

"I'm fine," he said shortly. Murray didn't need to know that Sergeant Fry's birthday pizza had made him sick this afternoon. That was hours ago, and though his stomach still hurt a bit, he was much better now.

"Ted, I wish you'd consider seeing someone. This has been going on for weeks now and there's—well, there's no need for you to be so miserable."

"The only thing making me miserable is you nagging," he snapped, and was immediately sorry. But before he could apologize, Murray was hiding behind his own menu. "Hey, kid—"

"May I take your order?"

They both looked up into the smiling face of Tina, Straightaway's new waitress, and Murray bit his lip. He said nothing as Quinlan ordered the steak and baked potato. Murray asked for a cheeseburger, feeling guilty for also ordering grease. Tina bopped off to the kitchen and Ted cleared his throat.

"Murray, I'm sorry. I had a crap day at work and you're right, I don't feel that good. But the last thing I want to do when I'm sick is go to a doctor."

"You know that doesn't make any sense, right?"

"I don't care. Come on, Bozinsky. We came here to have a good time. Can't we just enjoy our meal in peace?"

"I'd like to," Murray said simply. But he knew very well how this evening would end. He'd be lucky if Ted let him spend the night, and even if he did, it wouldn't be fun. There had been very little fun between them lately, and it was only Murray's dedication to the ideals of a good relationship that allowed him to overlook it. They might not be married, but he had the _for better or for worse, in sickness and in health_ part down pat. Quinlan was really testing him on it lately, but Murray hung tough.

Ten o'clock found them about where Murray had expected, with him making tea in Ted's kitchen while Ted was in the bathroom bidding farewell to what had been a pretty decent steak. He came out, pale and sweating, trembling with pain and trying hard not to let it show. Murray led him to a chair in the living room and gave him a cup of tea.

"I'm not even going to say anything," he said, sitting down on the arm of the chair. Quinlan gave him a disbelieving look and sipped his tea. The silence held for a few minutes. Then Murray put his arm around Ted's shoulders and realized that the sweat on his forehead wasn't just from nerves or the exertion of being sick. "You have a fever, don't you?"

"What happened to not saying anything?"

"I changed my mind. Ted, please. I—I think this might be serious. You don't feel good, I know that, but you have to ask yourself how sick you want to get."

"I want to go to bed. You may as well go on home, kid. I'm not gonna be any kind of company tonight."

"At least let me help you into bed, then."

"I don't need any help."

"Yes, I can see that. So humor me, Ted. You know you'd do the same for me. You have, in fact."

"I have?"

"Sure. Whenever I've been sick or hurt, you've been a real bully about taking care of me. Now I think the least you can do is let me return the favor. Come on."

"You have some kind of ulterior motive, I know that, but I'm damned if I can figure out what it is."

"When did you get so paranoid?" Murray asked, helping him out of his chair and walking him into the bedroom.

"I don't know. Probably around the same time I started hanging out with you."

"Are you saying I'm to blame for your psychological problems?"

"I'm saying you're a sneaky little shit."

Murray laughed without reproach and began easing Ted's shirt off over his head.

"How much help do you think I need?" Quinlan asked, submitting meekly to his attention.

"Your shoulders hurt, right?"

"More my back," he admitted, as if it were something to be ashamed of.

"Between your shoulder blades?" Murray asked, probing gently with the tips of his fingers. "Like right in here?"

"Yeah, around there. I must have strained my back at work or something."

"What about here?" he asked, pressing into the soft flesh under Ted's ribs. The sudden flinch and muffled gasp were all the answer he really needed, but he continued to explore up and down Quinlan's right side until the lieutenant told him to stop. "It hurts, doesn't it?"

"You know it does. So what are you thinking? It can't be my appendix. I had that out when I was a kid."

"No, the pain is too high. And it follows a predictable eat/sleep cycle, which means it's related to your activities, whereas appendicitis operates on its own schedule. No, I told you before, it's more likely your gallbladder, and I still think I'm right."

"That's no big deal, then," he shrugged. "My grandma had gallstones for years."

"Sure, but it's not necessarily stones. And did she ever get sick like this? With the fever and yellow skin and everything?"

"I don't remember. Look, I'm tired. I just want to get some sleep. We can fight about this just as easy tomorrow, right?"

"I'm not fighting, Ted. I'm really not. I just need you to—to be okay, and I'm afraid that you're not."

"I'm fine," he said, a little more gently than he might have if Murray hadn't used the word _need_.

"Really?" Murray asked, pressing his advantage by probing up under Ted's ribs again.

"For the love of God, stop that," he gasped. "Just, fucking—_fuck_." Ted got up and pushed him aside, stumbling toward the bathroom. Murray waited a long time for him to come back, knowing his lover liked to have privacy when he was sick, but eventually had to go check on him. When his knock went unanswered, he opened the door.

Quinlan was lying on the floor, curled up small as if protecting his pain, and Murray was reminded of the chapter in _White Fang_ where the mountain lion and the wolf take turns killing the porcupine. Something was tearing at Quinlan's soft underbelly and Murray was terrified that it might be fatal. But his lover wasn't as smart as the porcupine; he didn't seem to realize that he couldn't outlast the attack.

"Ted, can I help you now? Are you ready to listen to reason?" he asked, kneeling by his head.

"Fuck," was his succinct reply.

"Can you get up? At least get back into bed?"

"I don't think so," he sighed. "Murray, I'm getting scared."

"You should be. I'm going to call an ambulance. Just hold on a minute." He got a folded towel from the cupboard and tucked it under Quinlan's head, stroking his damp hair back tenderly. "I'll be right back, okay?"

Quinlan nodded, closing his eyes and snuggling into the softness of the towel.

"You'll come back?" he whispered, ashamed of his helplessness.

"You know I will. I'll be right back." Murray bent and kissed his clammy forehead, then leapt to his feet and nearly ran from the room. The sooner he left, the sooner he could return.

***

They let Murray ride in the ambulance but he had to sit up front. In the ER, he was allowed to stay so long as Quinlan was conscious and insisted, but his condition was deteriorating rapidly and it wasn't long before Murray was forced to leave. After he confessed to not being family, he was sent to the waiting room while the staff hunted for an actual relative. Ted's brother was listed in his file as an emergency contact, but Murray had never met him and hadn't liked anything that he'd heard. Still, he sat down to wait, hoping for the best. Greg would probably be grateful to him for looking after Ted, and it would all be fine.

He was flipping through an old _National Geographic_ and marveling that they never really seemed to go out of date, when a shadow fell over the page. Murray looked up, his heart in his throat, expecting to see a nurse. Instead he saw a man who looked like a taller, younger version of Ted.

"Are you Murray Bozinsky?"

"Yes. Yes, I am. Are you Greg Quinlan?"

"Yeah. Good to meet you." He offered a hand and Murray shook it, already feeling better.

"So, did they tell you anything?" Murray asked. "I couldn't get any information, since I'm not family. Is he okay?"

"It sounds like he's in pretty rough shape." Greg sat down in one of the molded plastic chairs and ran his hands through his hair. "They said he has some kind of advanced gallbladder disease. It's all nec—necro—dead inside."

"Necrotic."

"Yeah. Gangrene and everything. He's in surgery now. Doc says if there aren't any complications he'll be out in a couple hours."

"Oh. Oh, good. I've been so worried, you have no idea. He's been sick for weeks and just ignoring it—it's been driving me crazy."

"Ted always was stubborn. Even for an older brother." There was something dark and grim in his tone that put Murray immediately on guard. Then it shifted and he seemed to want to be friendly again. "So, how do you know each other? You don't look like a cop."

"I'm not. I'm a private detective and our cases overlap sometimes. That's how we met."

"Huh. You don't look much like a PI, either. Must be a pretty good friend, though, to be sitting here at one in the morning."

"Yes, he—he saved my life a while ago. I got shot working a case and he was really there for me."

"Yeah, that's nice. Look, I'm gonna go upstairs and wait. You oughta go on home and get some sleep. I can call you tomorrow and let you know how he's doing if you want."

"Well, yes—I could, but I'd rather wait and—and see him for myself. After you do, of course. I mean, I know I'm not family, but we—we _are_ pretty close friends and—well—I think he expects—he'd want—I mean, he'd wonder—"

"Hang on, nerd boy. Why are you even here? I thought he came by ambulance?"

"Yes, well, I was with him. Like I said, he's been sick for a while now and I—I've been staying the night, just in case something like this happened."

"Really," he said, not making it a question. "So you're one of them."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Those friggin' perverts he used to hang around with. I thought he was past all that, but you guys never quit. You just keep dragging him back down, don't you?"

"I—we—_what_?" It wasn't as if Ted hadn't warned him, but somehow Murray had never expected to be spoken to this way by anyone. Least of all by a man whose brother's life he had probably just saved.

"He could be normal if you fucking fags would leave him alone. He's a cop, for god's sake. A _soldier_. He's not queer, but you nancy boys just don't seem to get the hint."

"I—no. No, it's not—I didn't—please, he's my friend."

"Your friend," he repeated with disgust. "I want you out of here, now. The last thing my brother needs is any more influence from people like you."

"But Ted will want to see me when he wakes up. He'll wonder where I am."

"He'll get over it. Now I'm telling you for the last time, get out." Greg was raising his voice, on the verge of shouting, and a nurse came over to tell him to keep it down. "Don't hassle me, lady. I want this guy kept away from my brother. He's dangerous and I don't want him around."

"No, I—I'm not—he's my _friend_. _You're_ the one he doesn't want to see."

But Greg was family and Murray never stood a chance. The argument lasted only long enough for the nurse make a note in Quinlan's chart and call security. In the end, she took Greg upstairs to wait for his brother and Murray took a cab back to the boat.

***

It was almost two when he unlocked the wheelhouse door and stumbled inside in the dark. He was trying to be quiet, but he was very tired and tripped on the stairs going down to the salon. Nick and Cody found him picking himself up off the floor, and before they could give him a hard time for waking them, Cody realized he was shaking.

"Hey, Boz, what's going on? What are you doing here?"

"I—I live here, don't I? I came home."

"Sure, you live here," Cody said, helping him to his feet. "But what about Ted? What are you doing coming home in the middle of the night?"

"He took a bad turn and had to go to the hospital."

"That's terrible," Nick said. "Is he all right?"

"I don't know. He was in surgery and—and his brother came and threw me out."

"Threw you out? Murray, what happened?" Cody put an arm around him and led him down to the galley. "Nick, put on the coffee."

"I don't want coffee," Murray said, sinking down into a seat at the table.

"What happened?" Cody asked, sitting beside him while Nick put coffee on.

"Ted's brother, Greg—he's a total homophobe. That's why they don't talk. When he figured out why I was there, he had me banned."

"Banned?"

"Yes, banned! Booted! Eighty-sixed, thrown to the curb, slain and shown the door!" he cried in a near panic. Then he took a deep breath and tried to calm down. "As long as Ted's unconscious his family is in charge, and Greg told them not to let me in or even give me information over the phone. They wrote it in the file and everything. He was so angry, I wouldn't be surprised if he gave my picture to security with orders to shoot first and ask questions later."

"Murray, that's awful," Cody said, hugging him close. "Can't you do anything?"

He just shook his head and leaned more into Cody's arm.

"Hey, it's not that bad," Nick said, shocking them both.

"What do you mean, not that bad?" Murray cried.

"Yeah, Nick, show some sympathy."

"I didn't mean that." Nick gave them each a cup of coffee and sat down across from them. "Quinlan's gonna wake up in a few hours and he'll set it straight. You want to see someone slain and shown the door, wait until the lieutenant gets done with his brother. You'll be back in there in time for breakfast."

"I guess," he sighed, not sounding reassured. "But that's not the point. I want to be there when he wakes up. He'll be expecting me, and his brother won't make him feel better."

"I know," Cody said softly. "I'd be going crazy if I was in your place and it was Nick in the hospital. But he's right, it won't be long. You'll get a good night's sleep and be all ready to see Ted in the morning."

"I know, but that doesn't help me tonight." He put his head down on his folded arms and sighed deeply as Cody rubbed his back. "He never even talks to Greg. They hate each other. How can he have more rights than someone Ted actually likes?"

"Family's family, Boz. But Ted will get you in tomorrow. It's going to be okay."

Murray nodded without raising his head and Cody kept rubbing his back, his eyes meeting Nick's over Murray's hunched shoulders. Nick nodded and reached out, squeezing Murray's wrist gently.

"We'll take you over in the morning," Nick said. "It's gonna be fine."

"I didn't even tell him I love him," Murray muttered to the table. "People were watching and I just—I couldn't say it. I didn't think he'd want me to, in front of everyone. But I should have. I shouldn't have let him go like that, without saying anything."

"He didn't go anywhere," Nick reminded him. "It'll be okay."

Murray didn't raise his head, and they sat there until the coffee got cold. When Nick got up to pour it out, Murray nudged Cody out of the way and went to bed. He didn't sleep at all, but at least he was lying down. His friends suspected as much and left him alone. They'd done all they could.

***

Breakfast was early on the _Riptide_, and Nick and Cody drove Murray to the hospital immediately after. He didn't want to eat, but they refused to take him anywhere until he did. So he choked down a scrambled egg and a slice of toast, and was waiting in the Jimmy when they finished their coffee.

"You know, in a couple hours, you're gonna wish you'd eaten," Nick said as he got in the truck.

"I did. And I can always have lunch later. Please, guys, can't we just go?"

"He's so cute when his boyfriend's waiting," Cody grinned. Murray slapped at the back of his head and his friends rejoiced that he was in a better mood.

It didn't last.

***

The first person they saw when they got off the elevator was Greg Quinlan, sitting in the waiting room like a guard dog.

"I thought I told you to stay out," he said, and that was how Nick and Cody knew who he was.

"Hey, it's a public building," Cody said. "Besides, Ted wants to see him. Doesn't he?"

"Ted ain't even awake. And if he was, he wouldn't care about this skinny little queer."

"Wait, what do you mean he isn't awake?" Murray asked, not even hearing the second part.

"Just what I said. He had complications during the operation and he ain't awake. Now get out before I call security."

"Wait, no. What happened?" Murray cried, forgetting to keep his voice down. People were turning to look, but he didn't care.

"None of your business. You're banned, remember? You stay the hell away from my brother or you'll go to jail. That's all you need to care about right now."

"But—but he needs me."

"You don't have anything he needs, you little fuck. Now get out."

"What are you going to say when he wakes up and asks for me?" Murray asked, his voice small and broken.

Greg smiled at him for the first time, a cold and cheerless smile that made his knees weaken with fear.

"I'm gonna tell him the truth. You were never here."

Murray wobbled, the air knocked out of him like he'd been sucker punched, and Nick caught his arm, supporting him, giving him strength to speak again.

"But—no—you can't—you can't do that. You—don't you care about what's best for Ted?"

"Keeping him away from guys like you _is_ what's best for him. I've known him all his life and he's always been a regular guy, so long as you fags ain't messing with him."

Murray thought about that night in the woods, how Ted had crawled into bed with him uninvited, held him as he trembled with fear and then ever so sweetly jerked him off. It had never occurred to him to want such a thing, and he certainly never guessed that Quinlan might want to give it to him. Now he was in the position of having to defend himself against charges he couldn't understand, let alone answer, while in the process of losing the man he loved.

"No," he whispered, stricken and stunned. "No, he—he needs me. It—it wasn't…" _my idea_. But he couldn't say that. It wouldn't change this man's mind; all it could do was lower Ted in his brother's estimation.

"Come on, Murray," Cody said gently. "We're not doing anybody any good."

"But you have to tell him I was here. He deserves that much. Hate me if you want, I don't care, but don't make him suffer."

"He's better off. Now get out."

Murray made one more futile gesture of resistance, tried to disengage himself from Nick's strong grip, and Greg called to a nurse to get security.

"That's it, buddy, we gotta go," Cody said, and together he and Nick hustled Murray back into the elevator. They held him up until they reached the lobby and then walked him silently to the car. He seemed less coordinated than usual, so Nick put him in the front seat and climbed into the back.

"Murray, it really is going to be okay," Cody said lamely.

"How? Don't you see what he's doing? Ted's going to wake up and I won't be there. When Greg tells him I haven't been there at all, he'll believe it. He'll be heartbroken, but he'll never admit it, and it'll be the end of everything."

"No," Nick said, leaning over the back of the seat to wrap an arm around his neck. "Quinlan's smarter than that. You'll explain it and he'll understand. He loves you, and he knows what his brother's like."

"He might know his brother, but you don't know Ted. He's so—defensive. You know how hard it was for us to even get this far. If he even suspects that I've abandoned him, he'll never give me another chance."

"What about all the other times?" Cody asked innocently.

"What?"

"Well, the times you were—exploring. Jody and Stephanie. He forgave you for those."

"That was different. That was before he said he loved me. It took him over a year to open himself up that much and he won't forgive me if I betray him now."

"But you didn't," Nick insisted. "You'd be there if you could."

"You don't know him," Murray said again. "And what if he doesn't wake up? I don't even know how sick he is. He could _die_ and I won't be there."

"I don't know if this will help you any, but if he does, he won't know you weren't there."

"How is that supposed to help?"

"You were in the emergency room with him, weren't you?" Cody asked. "You were there until he—went to sleep, right?"

"Yes, of course."

"Well, if he never woke up again, that would be the last thing he knew. He wouldn't know you ever left him. But that doesn't matter, because he _will_ wake up. He'll ask for you and they'll have to let you in. You can explain all this then."

"Maybe," Murray said doubtfully.

"Maybe? Why not?" Nick asked, giving him a gentle shake.

"When I'm not there, he'll have to pretend he doesn't care. He'll never even give me a chance to explain. I'm telling you, I'm fucked here. And so's Ted. Greg's not going to be there for him when he's recovering. They hate each other; once he's sure he's rid of me, he'll disappear."

"Then that's when you show up on Quinlan's front porch and refuse to leave until he lets you in," Nick said firmly.

"That's right," Cody agreed. "We'll go along and back you up if that's what it takes."

"Really?"

"Yes, really," Nick said, shaking him again. "We're gonna get you through this, buddy. You're not alone, okay? Whatever you need, we're there for you."

"No, I—I know that, Nick. Thank you," he said, wrapping long fingers around Nick's forearm. Cody reached over and laid a hand on Murray's knee, squeezing gently. It helped a little, but all of his heart and most of his mind was back at the hospital, and he wouldn't really be happy until his body was there, too.

***

For the next two days, Murray stuck close to home. He called the hospital every morning, and every morning they told him the same thing. That Mr. Quinlan's family (always mister, never lieutenant) had instructed them not to release any information. Murray never gave his name and the nurses never asked.

On the third day, Ted woke. He was sick and feverish, aware that something terrible had happened, and maybe was still happening, but not quite able to remember what. Nor could he remember why Greg was there, the brother to whom he spoke once a year, always on the phone, and always with the feeling when he hung up that it was once too often.

"Greg?" he whispered, his voice a dusty croak. "What's going on here?"

"Hey, you're awake. It's about time." He poured a cup of water and put a straw in it, holding it so Ted could drink.

"What happened? I been sick?" he asked, pushing the cup away.

"Had your gallbladder out. It was all gangrenous, doctor said. You were going septic by the time they pulled it. You been unconscious for days now."

"Shit. Am I okay?"

"Good enough. You'll probably go home in a couple days."

"Fuck. How long was I out?"

"You came in on Friday. It's Tuesday now."

"Fuck," he said again. "Hey, where's—where's Murray? He go out for breakfast or something?"

"Murray who? He one of your cop friends?"

"Murray Bozinsky. Skinny, geeky kid. He came in with me, I remember that. Wasn't he here?"

"No, man. No one's been here but me."

"What?" Quinlan didn't want to believe it, it didn't make sense, but his brother's gaze was steady and sincere. "He hasn't been here at all? Did he even call?"

"No one called that I know of. It's just you and me."

Ted looked around the room, as if searching for proof of the lie, and found none. All he saw were IV bags overhead and hospital trappings on the table. Not so much as a lousy card. Something inside him turned cold and fearful, and then the fear was swallowed up by nothing at all.

"Why, who is this guy?"

"No one. Just a—a friend."

"Huh. Can't be much of a friend if he didn't even call."

Ted gave his brother a long, blank stare and then closed his eyes. Suddenly he didn't care if he ever went home.

***

On Wednesday morning, there was a small piece in the King Harbor paper that quoted a police department spokesman as saying that Ted Quinlan was officially out of danger and would be going home soon. Murray saw it and nearly fainted under the realization that, if this was newsworthy, his lover must have been in danger all this time. He showered and dressed for the first time in days and submitted to letting Cody drive him to the hospital, only because he knew he was too weak to drive himself.

Quinlan may have been the one in the hospital, fighting for his life against a raging blood infection, but bad things had been happening to Murray, too. Nick and Cody had done everything they could, but they were unable to make him eat after the morning he was turned away from the hospital. He'd taken to spending all day in his room, sometimes working and sometimes just staring at the walls.

The first night after Greg sent him away, he sat on deck and stared at the ocean until sunrise. But on the second night, that wasn't enough and he went for a walk. His friends woke to find him gone and were in a panic until they discovered him on the beach, wandering through the rising surf, his shoes soaked and his pants wet to knees. After that, they allowed him to spend his days alone, but at night he slept in their cabin, beside them in the big bed that they'd hardly had a chance to enjoy since it was built. They put him next the wall so he couldn't escape, and took turns sleeping beside him. Murray didn't sleep much, but he felt the obligation and lay still so they could. But as he lay there, he thought about how long he'd wanted that place, and how terrible it was now to have it. Even with Nick's arm around him, he felt cold and lost, like a child far from home, and escaped as soon as they woke in the morning.

Every day he grew quieter, the circles under his eyes grew darker, and his friends prayed for Quinlan's recovery as desperately as Murray did himself. Only when the lieutenant was awake and in charge again could they start putting Murray back together.

They were quiet on the ride to the hospital, Murray staring out the window and fidgeting with the creases in his wrinkled jeans. He was trying to be strong, terrified of falling apart in front of people when they got there, and when Nick touched his shoulder, he nearly screamed.

"Calm down, Boz," Nick said gently, and Murray just shook his head. He felt like his whole life depended on the next fifteen minutes.

They parked the car and walked inside, Cody holding Murray's elbow while Nick opened doors and cleared a path for them. But security was waiting outside the elevator, where Greg had been before.

"I'm sorry, sir, but you have to leave," one of the guards said as soon as they stepped off. Murray saw with horror that they did have his picture, that they'd been put there to wait for him, and there was no way he could win.

"Please, just tell Ted that I'm here," he said hopelessly. "If he knew, he'd want to see me."

"I'm sorry," the guard said again, taking his other arm. "His family gave us strict instructions not to even mention your name, and unless he asks, there's nothing we can do. Please, Dr. Bozinsky, don't make us call the police."

"But he's awake, isn't he?" Murray pleaded. "Just tell me that. Is he all right?"

"We don't have any information on patients' conditions. There's nothing you can do here except get yourself into trouble. Take my advice and go home now, Dr. Bozinsky. For your own good."

"How can you do this?" Nick asked suddenly. "How can you let his brother make his decisions for him when he's awake and aware? Murray brought him here, held his hand in the ER—they're best friends. That guy's just a petty little asshole; he doesn't have anything to do with _anything_."

"He's family, sir." The guard was dragging Murray toward the elevator and Cody followed so he wouldn't be pulled in two. Although, inside, he already was.

Murray cooperated until the elevator doors opened and he realized he was really going to have to leave. Then he jerked away from Cody's gentle grip, kicked the security guard in the shin and tried to make a break for it down the hall. The second guard pulled out his baton and caught Murray across the chest with it, knocking the air out of him and nearly putting him down. Nick grabbed Murray from behind, keeping him on his feet, while the kinder of the two guards reined in his partner.

Cody hit the elevator button again and they hustled Murray inside before he'd caught his breath. He was still leaning on Nick, struggling to breathe, when the door closed and the fight was over. He slumped against Nick's chest and they stood there until the doors opened again. Cody took Murray's arm again and he and Nick led him back to the car.

In his room on the third floor of the hospital, Ted asked the nurse what all the commotion was.

"Nothing to worry about. Just some poor guy trying to get in to visit a friend. The patient's family has him barred, I guess."

"Huh. Guy must be in bad shape if his family's calling the shots."

"Must be. Hey, you ate all your breakfast. Good for you, Mr. Quinlan. Can I get you anything else?"

"Anything that'll get me out of here faster."

"Orange juice it is." She gave him a smile and bustled out, unaware that simply mentioning the ill-fated visitor's pocket protector or taped glasses would have done her patient more good than any amount of food or medication.

The guys got Murray out to the car and dropped him in the front seat. He wasn't struggling anymore, and as soon as he was released, he buried his face in his hands and sobbed. It was the first time he had cried since this all began, and the flood of pent-up emotion was powerful and frightening. Cody got behind the wheel and pulled him close, cradling him as he wept. Nick climbed in the back again and leaned over the seat to pet him. Murray cried until he was exhausted and ashamed, wishing he'd saved this until he was alone. He pulled away and took off his glasses, taking a long time wiping his eyes so the moment could pass.

When Cody asked if he was okay, he nodded and fastened his seatbelt. He didn't put his glasses back on until he heard the engine start and knew they wouldn't be able to focus on him so completely.

"I—I'm sorry, guys. I didn't mean to fall apart like that."

"It's okay, Boz," Cody said casually. "We've kind of been waiting for you to let it out. I mean, it's no secret that you're hurting."

"That's right," Nick told him, still leaning over the seat. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. You're getting a bad deal here, and you're allowed to be upset."

"He hasn't asked for me. You heard the guard. If Ted had asked, they'd have to let me in."

"Murray, all that means is he hasn't asked the staff. I'm betting he asked his brother and got some kind of story, like that you didn't want to come," Nick said.

"Yeah, and Ted would believe that," Cody agreed. "He wouldn't like it, but he'd believe it. The guy's got a serious self-esteem problem."

Murray nodded, trying to smile.

"You're right. But he'll be home soon and I'll see him there. Greg can't hang around forever." His words were brave and his friends took heart. But he didn't eat again that day, and he wouldn't go to bed that night. Cody sat on deck with him until dawn.

***

The rest of the week passed slowly, with alternating arguments and encouragement from Nick and Cody, and stubborn, tearless resistance from Murray. On Thursday morning, he fell into bed and couldn't get up again. His friends took turns pouring soup down his throat and walking him to the head, but he made no effort to help himself. All he wanted was to lie in bed and stare at the overhead until it was time to see his lieutenant again. On Saturday morning, Dooley came over to tell them that Quinlan had gone home the day before. They didn't bother to ask him how he knew. Dooley just always seemed to have the scoop. Cody got Murray out of bed and into the shower while Nick made breakfast, and together they got him to eat just enough that he could walk, but not so much that he would throw up in the car.

"How do I look?" he asked as his friends helped him dress.

"I really like that shirt," Cody said, with the expression of a man who was fishing and reeling in sunken logs.

"That bad?"

"You look like hell," Nick said flatly. "He's gonna take one look at you and know you've been sweating blood all week. But that's not necessarily a bad thing. It'll help you make your case."

"What'll I do if Greg is at the house? What if he opens the door and won't let me in?"

"He won't be able to keep us out," Nick promised and Cody nodded.

"That's right. We'll get him out of your way, no problem."

Murray gave them a small, grateful smile and let Cody fix his hair, as if he was going on a date rather than paying a visit to a man who had barely survived major surgery. Cody was of a mind that any occasion warranted looking one's best, and Murray was willing to humor him.

***

As predicted, Greg opened the door and blocked their way so effectively that Murray couldn't even tell if Ted was in the front room. It would have been so much easier if he'd seen Murray standing there and called off his brother, but it was always possible that he _wouldn't_ call him off, and that would be a disaster.

"What do I gotta do, get a restraining order?" Greg asked in greeting. "How many times do I have to tell you to get lost?"

"At least once more," Murray said bravely. The bigger man reached out as if to shove him and Nick grabbed Greg's arm, pushing him back inside and clearing the way.

"I'm telling you, if you guys don't get out of here, I'll call the cops."

"Ted's a cop," Murray reminded him. "If he tells me to go, I will. But I need to hear it from him."

"You're a fool. You think he wants to see you? You think he wouldn't have called if he wanted you around? Who do you think set the guards on you at the hospital the last time?"

"You did," Murray said, his voice shaking with anger. "They told me so. _The family_, they said. If he'd asked for me, they'd have let me in. Stop lying to yourself, Greg. You know how he feels about me, and _I_ know how he feels about _you_."

"You don't know shit, you little faggot. My brother's a _man_. If you cared about him, you'd leave him alone and let him be the man he's supposed to be. It was assholes like you that broke up his marriage and ruined his career in the Army."

Murray blinked at that, never having heard exactly why Ted went from being a full time soldier to a Reservist and civilian peace officer. But his uncertainty vanished when he heard a soft thump from the bedroom. He started at once toward the closed bedroom door, and Nick held Greg back when he tried to grab him. Murray knocked at the door, then opened it without waiting for a response.

"Ted," he said quietly, shocked by how sunken and pale his lover had become. Quinlan was sitting up on the side of the bed, disturbed by the noise and trying to rise, and he froze when he saw Murray standing there. "Ted, I—I'm so sorry. Are you all right?"

"What do you care?" he asked hoarsely, horrified to find himself near tears. It was the illness that made him weak, but that was no excuse.

"Ted…" But Murray was out of words. He went into the bedroom and knelt at Quinlan's feet, taking one hand in both of his and pressing it to his cheek.

"Murray?"

"I was there," he whispered. "I was at the ER until Greg threw me out. I tried to get back in later, I wanted to be there when you woke up, but he had me banned. Security had my picture, even."

"He told me you weren't there," Ted sighed, stroking Murray's shaggy hair with his free hand. "He said you never even called."

"But I did, every day. I tried so hard, Ted."

"He did," Cody said from the doorway while Greg struggled against Nick's iron grip. "We took him over as soon as we knew you were awake, and security blocked us at the elevator. Said he couldn't go in unless you overrode your brother's orders yourself."

"I asked him where you were. Never occurred to me to ask a nurse or somebody. I knew he was a weasely little fucker," Ted added, looking up at his brother for the first time, "but I never thought he'd lie to my face."

"It was for your own good," Greg cried. "You're my big brother. I have to look after you. You don't need this shit, Teddy. You used to be a good man."

"He's a great man," Murray said, kissing Ted's hand and then getting to his feet. "But," he added, focusing solely on Ted, "even great men need their rest. Lie down, Lieutenant. I won't go anywhere."

"Stay with me?" he whispered, even as he allowed Murray to help swing his legs back into bed.

"Of course. Do you want Greg to stay, or should we throw him out now?"

"That depends. Nick, bring him in here, will you?"

Nick propelled Greg into the room, stopping him just out of reach of Murray, who was still drawing the majority of his furious attention.

"We never have agreed on what a man is," Ted said quietly, "and I've always tried to hide who I am to please you. I wanted to be a good brother, set a good example, but I can't do that by lying. So I'm telling you now, I'm gay and I always have been. I always will be. And if you can't accept that, or the man I choose to be with, then you're the one I can do without."

"You'd do that? You'd choose this geeky little queer-boy over your own brother?"

"You know what? I just did. Will you guys do me a favor and get him out of here?"

Greg began to fight Nick in earnest and Cody stepped in to help. As soon as they had him out of the room, Murray went and closed the door.

"Are you okay?" he asked, returning to the bed.

"No. But I will be. Murray, you—you really came to the hospital? You really tried to see me?"

Murray was exhausted, beaten down and out of answers, totally lacking the words to convince this man who could, in moments, put up thick walls that would take months to tear down. Instead, he took off his overshirt and pulled his t-shirt off over his head.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked, running one finger over a long, narrow bruise that spanned his bony chest.

"Looks like a nightstick," Quinlan said at once. He'd left that same bruise on quite a few people over the years, but never on anyone as obviously harmless as Murray. "What is it, really?"

"A nightstick. I got into a fight with the security guards at the hospital. They won."

"Jesus. That why you look so bad? Did they hurt you?"

"Not too much. Nick kept the guy from hitting me again. I—I've just been so worried about you. See, I knew what he was doing. I knew it wasn't you keeping me out, but I was so afraid it would work and by the time he left, you wouldn't be speaking to me at all."

"If you'd waited a couple more days, that could have happened," Quinlan said quietly. "Captain Lang came to see me once, but that was it. Greg kept saying he never even heard of you."

Murray glanced at the closed door, then took off his shoes and pants and slid into bed beside his lover. It took them a moment to get comfortable, Murray holding Quinlan with one arm, his bony shoulder supporting his lover's head.

"We met in the ER that first night. He was really nice to me, until he figured out what kind of friend I was. He grabbed the first nurse he saw and put me on the blackball list right then."

"And you kept coming back."

"Until I kicked a guard and got hit with a baton. Then the guys wouldn't let me go anymore. They were afraid I'd get shot or arrested or something. But that doesn't matter now, does it? You forgive me?"

"Nothing to forgive, babe. I should be apologizing to you for not asking the right people. I was just—I was afraid of hearing the same thing from the nurses and finding out it was really true. I thought they'd tell me you if called, without me having to ask."

"Greg told them not to even mention my name. He said I was dangerous and you were scared of me or something."

"Son of a bitch. Murray, I'm sorry. You musta been going through hell."

"I'm all right now. But what about you? Are you okay? What did the doctor say?"

"Said I was a fool and shoulda seen someone months ago. Might not have even needed surgery if I'd just listened to you from the beginning. But I'm all right now, too. Have to change my diet, but that's okay. Wouldn't hurt to lose some weight, shape up a little."

"You look kind of thin now."

"Hospitals always do that to me. I'll pick up again in no time."

"I hope so," Murray smiled, and kissed his forehead softly. "I'll stay as long as you want—fix your meals and do whatever you need."

"I'd appreciate that. I think Greg's leaving soon, anyway."

As if on cue, there was a knock on the door and Cody stuck his head in.

"Your brother's on his way out. You want to say goodbye?"

"If he wants to," Quinlan said, not lifting his head from its bony pillow. Suddenly he wanted his brother to see this, to see him in bed, in the arms of the man he loved. It might get ugly, but just this once, he would let Nick and Cody do his fighting for him.

But it didn't come to that. Greg stepped in, gave them a long, thoroughly disgusted stare, and turned away. Murray saw him pick up a backpack from beside the front door, and then he was gone with a grumble and a slam.

"You think he'll ever speak to you again?"

"I don't know," Ted sighed. "I hope so, he's my baby brother. I guess I'll give him a call at Christmas and see what happens."

Murray nodded, hugging him close. Christmas was a long way away.

"Well," Nick said, leaning on the doorframe. "It looks like you guys have this under control. Do you need anything, or is it okay if we take off now?"

"I'm fine," Quinlan said without opening his eyes.

"Yeah, me too," Murray agreed. "I'll get up in a while and make us something to eat. You go on home."

"Are you gonna eat, too?" Nick asked with a teasing smirk.

"Of course I am. I need to keep my strength up," he said innocently. Nick gave him a wink and closed the door.

"You had a hard time this week, didn't you?" Quinlan asked, his normally stern voice gone soft and sympathetic.

"Not as hard as yours. You had sepsis, Ted. You could have died, with no one there but your brother to hold your hand. And he doesn't seem like the hand-holding type."

"He's not. But I been eating some the last few days and you look like you haven't. Did you even sleep, or did you just sit in front of your computers day and night?"

"I didn't even get much work done. I was so afraid he'd turn you against me and I'd have to start all over; it was all I could think about. I didn't work or eat or sleep—"

"You stayed home, though, didn't you? Didn't go out walking at night?" he asked, and Murray felt his body tense for the answer.

"Well, I did once. I just couldn't stand it anymore, being trapped on the boat. I walked on the beach all night and ruined my shoes."

Quinlan relaxed just a little and tried to sound like he was kidding when he said, "So you didn't go to the park?"

"No. I'd never go there when you weren't around to save me," Murray laughed. "And after that one time, the guys didn't let me go out again."

"What'd they do? Barricade your door?"

"Worse. They made me sleep with them. I couldn't even go to the head without waking them up."

"You—what do you mean, made you sleep with them? You _slept_ with them?"

"Cody insisted. They have that new bed that takes up half the cabin and they made me sleep next to the wall so I couldn't sneak out."

"Jesus. I'm at death's door for a week and you're having nightly orgies?"

"Orgies?" Murray repeated, confused. "No, Ted, what are you talking about? I told you, they were just keeping track of me. Otherwise I never would have stayed home. You know how restless I get when you aren't around."

"Still doesn't sound right," he muttered.

"Well, if it helps any, I didn't enjoy it. I couldn't sleep for thinking about you. Besides, Nick snores, and Cody kicks when he has nightmares, which is most of the time. I don't know how they put up with each other."

"Same way I put up with your nightmares and talking in your sleep."

"But I'm cute and cuddly," Murray said, kissing him playfully. "And you steal the blankets every single night."

"But you're still staying, right?"

"Until you tell me to go."

"That could be a long time," Quinlan said, pulling the blankets higher over Murray's bruised chest. "Now get some sleep. It's my turn to be the sick one, remember?"

"Whatever you say, Lieutenant." He closed his eyes but chose to stay awake a while longer. It was too good just lying there, feeling the warm body that he loved against his own again, listening to Ted breathe, slow and steady as he went to sleep. After a long time, Murray slept as well. There were still things to talk about, and both of them needed to eat, but there would be time for that later, after they got some rest.


End file.
